


Untitled Drabble

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Contrary to what many people think, Kurt can’t cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Drabble

Contrary to what many people think, Kurt can’t cook. 

Sure, he can follow a recipe as much as the next person, and over the years he’s perfected a few of his favourite dishes, but he can't  _cook_.

Blaine, on the other hand, is probably the best cook that Kurt knows.

This realization comes in small stages, little things that build up over time. First it’s the homemade ginger-nut biscuits that Blaine brings over one day in a plastic box, just in time for Christmas. They hadn’t been friends that long - a few months - but Kurt remembers those biscuits being the best things he’d tasted that holiday season.

But maybe that was more to do with the way that Blaine had smiled at him and brushed the back of his hand with his fingers when he’d handed him the box.

There are other things as well, and not just desserts or sweet treats. When Kurt had complained that the Chinese take-out place in Lima, the  _good_  one, had taken his favourite dish off the menu, Blaine had made it for him - completely from scratch. Kurt had watched in amazement as his boyfriend started pulling things from the cupboards, setting out all kinds of weird and wonderful boxes and bottles and tubes out on the counter - and the  _smell!_  The smell was unlike anything Kurt had ever experienced, and definitely smelled nothing like the Chinese take-out. It was even better than that. 

Needless to say, his efforts had been duly rewarded at the end of the night when Kurt, full of Chinese food and feeling content, had reached into Blaine’s pants and jerked him off in front of whatever banal  _something_  was playing on the TV, his moans drowning out the muffled laugh track.

Then there was the Italian-themed feast he’d prepared for their first anniversary as boyfriends, the vanilla and white chocolate cheesecake for his birthday the year he graduated from McKinley, the red velvet cake cut in the shape of a graduation cap (that part Blaine admitted he’d had help with, courtesy of his Mom) when he finally  _did_ graduate. Everything Blaine made, from pizza to roasted vegetable pasta and salmon with lemon dressing, was the best thing Kurt had ever tasted. 

It was something that he’d sorely missed when they were broken up. He’d missed the mouth-watering smells that would waft up from the kitchen, the sound of clattering pots and pans and clinking bottles of spices, the way Blaine often hummed or whistled while he cooked, absent-mindedly, the tune carrying up the stairs so that Kurt could hear it even if he left the immediate vicinity. 

The first thing Kurt did when they got back together, their first night as fiancés, was ask Blaine to cook for him, anything at all, anything in the world that he wanted to make, to surprise him. To impress him. To make him feel at home again, so that he would really believe that this was happening, that the silver ring on his finger wasn’t a hologram or a phantom touch, that if he pinched himself, it would hurt, because it wasn’t a dream.

And of course, true to form, Blaine delivered, just has Kurt had asked. And he’d fallen in love all over again - with Blaine, with his food, and with the taste of home. 


End file.
